


Delirium

by HotGoatCheese



Series: Whumptober 2019 [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Failed Watchers Crown, Gen, Questioning Reality, cut off from Beholding, possible audio hallucinations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 00:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20883236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotGoatCheese/pseuds/HotGoatCheese
Summary: No one person could ever really know everything. So in order to know everything, one must cease to be a person.That hadn't been the goal of the Watchers Crown.  It would have been a rather lovely side effect though.  The limitations of his awareness were a constant source of frustration for Elias.  They always had been, even before his ability extended past his senses. Even before he Knew. Before he could Know.The dread certainty that he would never Know again washed over him, and as the horrible tide of it ebbed, it dragged tears out of him with it. A little sob in the back of his throat before a voice cut through the sudden silence. "He deserves it."





	Delirium

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrettyLynx2327](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyLynx2327/gifts).

No one person could ever really know everything. So in order to know everything, one must cease to be a person. 

That hadn't been the goal of the Watchers Crown. It would have been a rather lovely side effect though. The limitations of his awareness were a constant source of frustration for Elias. They always had been, even before his ability extended past his senses. Even before he Knew. Before he could Know. 

The dread certainty that he would never Know again washed over him, and as the horrible tide of it ebbed, it dragged tears out of him with it. A little sob in the back of his throat before a voice cut through the sudden silence. "He deserves it." 

Insolent little - Elias wondered what Peter had ever seen in the brat. What his Archivist had seen in Little Martin Blackwood. He wanted to lash out, to meet the eyes behind the voice and return the insult with some dread information. Something the soft man would never want to hear. Except he not only couldn't see the source of the voice, he couldn't think of what he could possibly say to him. 

"It's over." said Jon, from somewhere. From nowhere. He could have said it from everywhere if Elias had had his way. Or could he have? It wasn't like the song in his blood told him what it would be like on the other side. It wasn't like he'd known or Known what it would be like to fail this near to succeeding.

"Jon-" he called, but there was no answer. 

In the prison of his senses, the bed was warm. Poly Blend Sheets that made too many memories of people that he wasn't wrinkle their noses in his head. So at least they were still there. At least he was still more than himself. When he reached for their memories though all he could feel was the cotton comforter seeming to pin him down to the bed. That couldn't be right though, surely he wasn't that weak? 

He opened his eyes to darkness, or at least it felt like darkness. Like his eyes were being adjusted from the full glory of day to something dimmer, and his head swam. There was a figure beside him that he couldn't identify. "Jon?" he tried again, hopefully. 

He could hear his voice echo and his vision escaped him entirely. He could feel his hold on awareness, any awareness, slipping and was overcome by a moment of utter terror before he recognized it as the first step to unconsciousness. Perhaps that would be better. Maybe, despite what The Archivist had done, maybe the Ceaseless Watcher could still find him when he woke. 

"What do we do with him?" 

Elias startled, and old familiar fear pulsing through him as he didn't recognize the voice. He tried to latch onto that, tried to follow the fear, as he once had, to its source. Follow it home. Instead it dissipated under his intent like so much spun sugar and he tried very hard to make himself known instead. 

The whine that escaped his throat was pathetic, and perhaps justified the scorn in the voice that replied. "He lost, and I think he deserves to live with that fact." 

Elias had never truly known the meaning of regret, but for the instant that he thought that voice belonged to Martin, he thought he might have learned it. He regretted not killing the mousy little intern when he had the chance. How dare he, how dare anyone, condemn him like that? Give him his own life as if it was theirs to give, as if it were a curse? 

The worst part was that as the words echoed through his head, he became less and less certain Martin was the one who had said them. It hadn't been Jon, it couldn't have been, but when he replayed the words in his head he heard them in his Archivist's voice and it served its purpose. 

Elias would sleep now. Stewing in his anger, trying desperately to bring it up to a terrified boil. If nothing else, he could try to make sense of the world tomorrow. 


End file.
